From T-Bone (Letter 25)

As I’m writing this, two things just
happened. A guy trying to kill himself jumped off the upper tier, but
didn’t die. There was a fight between a Mexican kid and a black kid over why
they were looking at each other.

I had to fight another of the shower rapist’s homeboys. He was young and very strong, but didn’t have the
experience. He called me out and I tried to ignore him for as long as possible.
He put his hands on me by pushing me into a cell and hitting me upside the
head. It hurt but I rolled with it and landed a left hook that let him know to
stop and he did.

But his homeboys talked him into coming
back. I was on guard for him. He tried to cut me with a razor. I had no choice.
I blocked it with a double hand Russian arm bar, put him on his back and hit
him with a right elbow. His head hit the floor with a dull smack and I walked
away.

The last time I looked he was still out
of it, lying on his bunk. It’s 9.30PM now and the guy is still hurt. All this
because his homeboy couldn’t control his desires and he had to bully some skinny
kid, who’s in here for drugs. The rapist saw a fish [new prisoner] and he had to
have him instead of saying, “Here’s the ropes, kid” [the do’s and don’ts]. I don’t
feel good about any of this crap. I hate bullying of any kind. It’s wrong. The guards are here, so I’ll write you later
on.